How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9)

by Linda Addison

  As the man walked to the wall, he took the plastic flowers out of his pocket, shoved it through the hole to the man and placed the brick back in.

  “What the hell?” the man asked.

  A woman’s voice asked from on top of the wall, “What’s going on, Michael?”

  “Wait, Eileen, I’m coming up,” Michael said.

  Above, Michael stood next to her looking through the wire.

  He tried to say the man’s name, but his tongue wouldn’t work. He couldn’t remember how to make air push through a mouth that didn’t need to breathe. His lips pursed in and out trying to say ‘Michael’.

  “It’s one of them,” she said.

  “I think he just pushed these through a hole in the wall,” Michael said showing her the flowers.

  “Why?” Eileen aimed at his head with a rifle.

  “Wait,” Michael said, pushing the rifle aside and dropping the flowers to the ground in front of the dead man.

  He leaned over, picked them up and reached up to Michael.

  “See — he’s trying to give them to me. I think he’s trying to say my name,” Michael said. “Maybe he’s not totally gone.”

  “There’s no halfway with these things. Once infected, it’s over. I don’t know why it’s doing this but we need to stop it before more come.” Eileen aimed again and shot him in the forehead before Michael could stop her.

  There was no pain but he knew he was dying. He went to his knees and began to crawl away from the building. If others came, he didn’t want them to get Michael. Michael was his, forever and ever. As he crawled red blood dripped from his forehead. They never had red blood inside; only red blood he had seen was on their hands and mouth when they fed. There was something wrong with his brain and now it would torture him no more.

  Two blocks away, he fell to the ground. He could hear others shuffling to him, drawn by his fresh blood. There was a crunching sound as one broke open the back of his head. The last thought he had as they ripped his brain from his skull was “love Michael”.

  Michael heard sounds outside the brick wall. He climbed the ladder and looked through the razor wire. On the ground two of the undead were standing, they looked up, and made sounds as if they were trying to talk. Each one had something in their hands that they held over their heads as an offering. A bottle of wine, the rotting body of a cat.

  He gripped the edge of the ladder, shaking. It sounded like they were saying ‘love Michael’.

  Demon Dance

  Angels shouldn’t dance with demons

  for fear of total deconstruction,

  the scent of evil will burn their wings,

  all souls saved could escape.

  Demons shouldn’t dance with angels

  for fear of redemption,

  the scent of good will make them gag,

  all souls gathered could escape.

  Angels and demons shouldn’t dance

  for fear of fulfilling End of Days prophecy,

  turning off all light in the known universe,

  all souls reverting to non-existence.

  Demons and angels shouldn’t dance,

  they could discover they are half of a

  mirror image, the point of their job an after

  thought to give them something to do.

  Boo

  My name is Tony. I’m six years old. I like to draw and pretend I’m a fireman. I’m big for my age. Some of the kids at school call me names, but Mommy says they just wish they were big like me. It takes me a little longer to understand things but I know right from wrong. Like those boys at school that ate mean to me. I wouldn’t do those things to them because I know it’s wrong. Mommy taught me to be nice to other kids.

  I told my mommy about them and she says it’s the devil in them that make them act bad. I asked her if the devil could get into me and make me do mean things. She said no because I’m a good boy. I think the devil in those bad kids tries to get into me but I know if I turn my back to the devil that it can’t get me. That’s what Grandmom told me.

  Last month one of those boys pushed me down the stairs in the schoolyard. I hurt my ankle so bad I had to stay out of school for a lot of days. I couldn’t tell the teacher which one pushed me because I had turned my back to them when they started throwing trash at me. I know the devil was in them because that was a very bad thing to do.

  I went back to school yesterday but my ankle still hurts a little and makes me walk funny. I opened my desk at school and somebody had poured milk all over my papers. That made me sad because they messed up the pictures of pumpkins I drew for Halloween.

  My mommy won’t let me go out for Halloween because she says it’s the devil’s time. She has to go to work tonight. Grandmom is playing church music but she promised to make cookies later for me if I play quiet in the basement. I hear scary sounds in the street. I’m afraid to look out the window. I go back upstairs. Grandmom is asleep in the living room with the music still playing. I peek out the window. There are strange lights on the street and scary shadows. The devil has gotten into a lot of kids and made them run up and down the street. I’m glad Mommy didn’t want me to go out. I wouldn’t want the devil to get into me and change me into a monster.

  I think they saw me peeking out the window because they’re looking this way and one of them pointed at me. I try to wake Grandmom up, but she won’t wake up. I can hear them throwing things at the front door. I can’t let them get in. I run upstairs and push a chair inside Mommy’s closet. It wobbles a little when I stand on it. I reach to the back of the top of the closet to take out the wood box. The box is not locked. Mommy doesn’t know that I know it’s back there, but I’ve peeked in the room when she took it out of the box to clean it. It’s not heavy, so I stick it in my belt to climb down.

  I slide the chair back into the corner because Mommy doesn’t like things out of place. I go downstairs and check Grandmom to make sure she’s all right. She looks like she always does when she’s asleep, so the devil must not have gotten into the house yet. When I put my ear to the door I can hear them in the street. I put my coat on and put the gun in my coat pocket. They won’t be able to see me in the bushes in front of the house.

  I go outside and sneak around to the back of the house to make sure they aren’t trying to get into the yard. No one is in the yard but I hear someone in the alley. The moon is all round and makes it easy to see. Two small shapes turn towards me. One is a white ghost with blood dripping out its eyes and the other is a witch with a pointed hat and green skin.

  The ghost points at me and says, “It’s that sissy kid.”

  The voice sounds like a kid from my school, but the devil can’t fool me. I take the gun out and point it…

  In This Strange Place

  What is behind the empty windows,

  the maze of identical paths, mirrors

  reflecting deserted rooms,

  hallways shiny with gilded ivy?

  You disagree with my posture, I want

  to give you everything, but you put

  your finger to my lips, holding the question

  inside, I can no longer dance.

  I have all the time, it waits in my arms,

  newborn, forgotten, silent, there is no

  way to break the frozen moment,

  today or tomorrow or all the days to come.

  We dance on cold marble floors, the music echoes,

  a slow beat, a waltz. I want to win every game

  for you, bring the music into your soul,

  cut out the names of those who hurt you.

  I watch you in the mirror,

  it is impossible for you to smile,

  we walk together and stop. The story is

  coming to an end, we stand still.

  And then I am alone.

  Milez to Go

  Angelique leaned against the bar and watched Sara, the club owner, and a man she didn’t know, place the upright acoustic piano next to the slim black case housing her proto
plasmic synthesizer. The Funky Piranha club looked forlorn with its empty tables, and strings of tiny red and green lights blinking on the ceiling. The slight scent of beer wafted into the air from the wood floor. Later that night the club would be filled with people who were in New Orleans for the music festival.

  She tapped the small silver derm phone disk attached behind her right earlobe. “Phone on. Dial Brenda.”

  Her cousin’s phone rang. “Damn,” Angelique said as the message played. “Brenda, it’s me again. I’ve been calling for days. Where are you? I just got in town and planning to stay at your place. If you’re holed up there with Flynn let me know so I don’t embarrass myself interrupting your playtime. I can find another place to stay. Either way, call me.”

  She tapped the derm phone off, frowning. “Careful, don’t lift it too quickly,” she said to Sara. “Just place it at right angles. I’ll adjust it.”

  They set the piano down gently. The man walked behind the bar to setup for tonight.

  Sara’s cream-colored dread locks were sprinkled with tiny purple lights that flickered as she moved. She rolled her violet eyes. “Angelique, after five years I think I know how to handle your equipment. I see you’re still using the acoustic. I would have thought Milez would be enough.” She gently patted the interface grid on top of the black protoplasmic container.

  A soft gold light came on in the bottom of the tank. A tube of blue protoplasm snaked its way through clear liquid to the top, became a shape resembling a hand and splashed the inside of the grid, broke into round drops and folded back into the liquid. A deep, smoky male voice said, “It’s all good. There’s plenty of room for me and the wood.”

  Sara jumped. “Damn, I’ve never heard it talk like that.”

  “Brenda bio-engineered a personal upgrade for me. It took longer to train to speak everyday language, but I prefer that over ‘system is functional’.” Angelique changed the angle of the protoplas to the acoustic piano so she could comfortably reach the protoplas interface grid and the keyboard.

  “How’s that cousin of yours? Still doing hush-hush cutting edge research over at Biolution?” Sara asked, standing next to Angelique.

  Angelique nodded.

  Sara wrapped her arm around Angelique’s waist and whispered in her ear, “No one plays neo-bop like Tempus Fugit. Some folks were here last night asking if your group would be performing. I can’t wait to hear you play tonight. Want to come upstairs for dinner and a little distraction before the show?”

  Angelique gave her a quick hug. “I’m a little worried about Brenda.” She smiled. “Maybe we can get together after the set tonight. I need to go to her place and find out why she hasn’t answered my calls for the last couple of weeks.”

  “You know how that girl gets caught up in things. She’s probably just working on some new project.” Sara ran her fingers through Angelique’s long braids. “I’d go with you to see her but my skin’s not too fond of afternoon sun. If there’s any problem with a place to stay you can always crash here.”

  “Thanks.” Angelique said. She gently patted Milez’ interface grid. “See you soon.”

  “You know it, baby,” Milez said.

  Angelique picked up her suitcase and walked out of the cool air of the club into New Orleans’ humid, sunny streets. The corner vendors were setting up their food and drink booths. The iron wrought balconies were elaborately decorated with flowers and streamers. It was easy to catch a taxi, since most people were at the Race Track for the afternoon concerts. Tonight the streets would be so full of people no taxi would come near the French Quarter.

  The taxi dropped Angelique in front of Brenda’s apartment building. She walked to the second floor and put her thumb on the lock pad. The panel asked for a retina scan as a secondary security check. She sighed. Brenda only used that lock when she was out of town. The apartment door slid open.

  Angelique walked in and pushed through an invisible membrane, the threshold of a strong protective spell. She frowned. A spell this intense had to be coming from someone nearby. She put the suitcase down.

  “Brenda?”

  The living room window shutters were closed, making the room night dark on a sunny afternoon. Angelique turned on the light. The room was in more disarray than usual for her cousin, with plates of half-eaten food and stained cups on the coffee table and mantle piece. The plants near the windows were wilted, and the kitchen, dining area and guest bedroom empty. She opened the door to the main bedroom at the back of the apartment and turned the light on.

  Her cousin lay in the center of the bed as if asleep, her mocha brown skin washed out, almost gray.

  Angelique rushed over.

  “Brenda, wake up.”

  She shook her cousin. Brenda radiated the protection spell, but didn’t wake. Angelique checked her breathing and pulse.

  “Damn it,” Angelique said, sitting down on the bed. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?” She didn’t like using magic, but there was only one way to get through to Brenda while she was in this state.

  Angelique lay down next to her cousin and held her hand. After taking three slow breaths, Angelique chanted:

  “We two

  both light and dark

  I the shadow

  You my kin

  Let me in

  Let me in.”

  Angelique closed her eyes and matched her breathing and heart beat to her cousin, within minutes she entered Brenda’s dream state.

  They stood back to back, looking out on hills covered in warm mist. Shadows moved in the mist. Still back-to-back, they grasped each other’s hands. Suddenly a cold wind whipped through the air, taking their breath, sending a chill through them. They had to clasp hands tightly not to be separated.

  “Who are you?” a mechanical voice asked.

  Resisting the strong pull to say her name, Angelique let Brenda answer, submitting her will to Brenda’s.

  Brenda became rigid against Angelique.

  “I am Brenda Wilson.”

  “nosliw adnerb,” the voice said Brenda’s name backwards.

  They lay in a container no bigger than their body. They couldn’t move. There was a murmur of voices in the background, people chanting, their words indistinguishable.

  Pins and needles pinched at their hands. Coldness spread slowly from the top of their head towards their feet. Angelique felt life draining from their body. She melted into the numbing stupor.

  “Show me what you found,” the voice commanded.

  Images swirled around them chaotically, moving faster and faster until Angelique was so dizzy she thought she would black out.

  A booming crashed in the air. Brenda’s voice screamed a protective spell over and over.

  They stood back to back, looking out on hills covered in warm mist. Shadows moved in the mist. Still back-to-back they grasped each other’s hands. Suddenly a cold wind whipped through the air, taking their breath, sending a chill through them. They had to clasp hands tightly to not be separated.

  “Who are you?” a mechanical voice asked.

  Each time Brenda screamed the protective spell, the dream repeated.

  Each iteration dragged Angelique further from her own will. She pushed all her attention to the in and out movement of air through her lungs. Refusing to pay attention to the physical sensations in their dream bodies, she concentrated on her breath.

  When the dream began again, Angelique turned to face Brenda. The voice that Brenda was fighting asked, “You are not her, who are you?” She screamed, “No,” stretched her arms into a blanket shape around Brenda and in a gasp dragged both of them to consciousness.

  Shadows in the bedroom seemed to compress and expand, as if taking a deep breath. One blink and everything looked normal.

  Brenda moaned, opened her eyes, sat up and looked around the room. “Angelique?” Brenda grabbed her hands, sending sparkling energy back and forth. “It’s you, not the dream, you’re really here?”

  “It’s me.” The
luminosity from her cousin burned her fingertips.

  Brenda switched on the nightstand light, touched Angelique’s face and braids and started crying.

  Angelique held her, letting her cry for a few moments before pulling away gently. “What’s going on here, Brenda? I had to go into the dream or nightmare or whatever that was to wake you.”

  Brenda sat back against the pillows. “They’re after me, but now that you’re here it’s going to be all right.”

  “What was all that?”

  “You were in the dream?” Brenda asked.

  Angelique nodded.

  “I thought I was imagining you,” Brenda rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “Did you see them?”

  Angelique shook her head. “I’m not sure what I saw. It was jumbled. Voices and images I couldn’t make out. They said your name backwards with such power.”

  Brenda ran her fingers through her short-cropped curls. “I wanted to call you before now but I was afraid they would go after you. This attack came while I was asleep. If you hadn’t come in, I don’t know how much longer I could have held out.” She took a gulp of water from a bottle at the nightstand. “Remember how we combined our power when we were kids and saved Grandmom from that ghost?”

  Angelique rubbed the tension out of the back of her neck. “That didn’t feel like a ghost. It felt like a living person with a lot of power. Does this involve the Order?”

  Brenda nodded. “I think it’s someone in the Order. You and Grandmom were right. Magic and groups of humans don’t go together. Too much ego involved. I left them.”

  “What about Flynn?” Angelique asked.

  Brenda closed her eyes. “We’re over.”

  Angelique breathed through the intense, tingling light coming from her cousin. “I’m sorry. You two were so good together.”

  Brenda shook her head. “Well, it’s better this way. He’ll be safer without me.”

  She slumped back against the pillows. “While I was in the Order I met wonderful people. It was great being able to talk openly about magic with others. We had an influx of new members in the last six months and there was a subtle change in the group’s dynamics, some underlying negative power.